


Playthings

by chinchillasinunison



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Gen, Henry is a Little Shit, Semi-Horror, Toys, Transformation, because they're toys and toys can't do anything useful, but they're all still technically there so i tagged them anyway, most of the characters tagged in this don't play an active role fyi, roger and maurice aren't even addressed by name lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 10:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinchillasinunison/pseuds/chinchillasinunison
Summary: Sam and Eric find some unusual items on the beach. Some unusual, very familiar items...





	Playthings

It was suffice to say that Henry was bored. He had been poking at the little creatures in the tide pool for some time now, as he had the day before, swirling the water about and controlling their trajectory like a great god. The entertainment value of these tiny things was growing stale, however, and the ocean was starting to recede again. Henry wanted something bigger, better, shinier-- some brand new toys to fiddle around with.

His little hands twitched about idly, and, well… it is well known to all who takes particular interest in hands with such a quality…

* * *

 

Sam and Eric pranced across the beach, thankful that the older boys hadn't given them any assignments or tasks to do today. In fact, the pair hadn't seen most of the bigguns for nearly all day. That struck them as unusual, but then again, they couldn't complain. It was nice to just spend a day without any of the trouble the older kids brought on with their constant bickering. The brothers had been lazing about with the littluns most of the morning, but now had broken away, looking for something more engaging to do with their newfound free time. 

It was in the twins’ carefree stroll that Eric's foot struck something lodged in the sand. He squeaked, not necessarily from pain, but more just the shock of it, and his sights set on the object.

“Huh…?” He said with a tilt of his head.

It looked like a pair of miniature human legs, sticking straight up out of the sand. He bent over to pick whatever it was up, but his brother snatched it first.

“It's a doll…” Sam stated simply, after a few seconds of delay.

He handed the toy to Eric to examine. It was a fashion doll, he judged, depicting a boy in a school uniform. Aside from the sand peppered all over it, it was a very attractive figure. Now, neither one was an expert on the subject by any stretch of the imagination, but one could easily recognize good craftsmanship when he saw it. The facial features were painted on meticulously and finely finished, without a speck out of place. The golden hair was somehow only mildly frizzed, despite just being completely buried only moments before. Even the plastic it was cast in was absolutely flawless, without any visible seams or nicks of any kind.

“...a very nice doll…” Eric continued his twin’s previous statement.

“How d'ya think it got here?”

Eric squinted into the cloudless, expansive sky.

“A bird, maybe. Might've picked it up somewhere else and dropped it while flying.”

“Maybe it washed up on shore,” Sam suggested a different theory, “Maybe a little girl was on a ship out there and her hands slipped and it fell off the side.”

Both silently doubted either explanation, for the pristine condition of the doll, aside from the sand and a few minor rips in the clothes, contradicted both. A doll that had been through either series of events wouldn't look so close to being right out of the box, obviously.

“Either way, it’s a nice find,” said Eric as he played about with the figure’s limited range of articulation. All it could really do was raise and lower its arms and legs, the knees and elbows fixed in place. The head was also attached to the neck via a ball joint, so that allowed at least a little freedom. He pushed one leg all the way up, as if it were doing a high kick, and moved the head around in circles with his thumb.

The twins continued on their walk, Eric slacking behind ever-so-slightly, staring down at the doll as he fidgeted with it. He was so absorbed in this that he didn't even notice at first when his brother left his side for the edge of the wood.

“Hey, Eric!” Sam called as he ran back.

He looked up and saw Sam screeching to a halt before him, holding out yet another doll.

“Guess we really can't do anything by ourselves, huh?” he joked, “What happens to one happens to the other. Guess it was just my turn now…”

Eric didn't pay his brother's words any mind as he inspected the toy. It was a rag doll, one with long, floppy limbs that ended in stubs. The head seemed a touch oversized, always leaning to one side or the other. It had large, shiny buttons for eyes and thick black cords of yarn for hair, and a single broad stitch across its face to represent a smile. The body was made of a brown fabric, and as clothing it only wore some tattered gray shorts. These features, familiar when grouped together and accentuated by the simple design, prompted Eric to make a comment, that at the time he thought was only an innocuous observation.

“Looks like Simon.”

Sam reacted to the comparison by turning the doll to face him and scanning it up and down.

“Well I’ll be!” he exclaimed, “You're right, it does!”

He turned it back to Eric and parroted mockingly through the idol:

“Maybe there is a beast! Maybe it's only us! Ooo! Spooooooooky!”

He wagged the toy around as he spoke, in order to simulate an actual being talking. The rag doll floundered about in response, and when he concluded, the toy’s head, in perfect punctuation to the unflattering imitation, slumped over as if hanging in shame.

The pair laughed. They were so enraptured by the thing’s novelty that neither questioned where this new doll came from, even if its appearance on a deserted island made much less sense than the first.

They trekked on, Sam dragging the toy by the leg, its face plowing through the sand.

“Y’know, yours kinda looks like somebody too. Like--”

“Ralph. Yeah, I thought that too, a little. But I think it's more because Ralph looks sorta like a doll anyways. You know: Little Mr. Perfect?”

Sam replied with a half-chuckle.

“We oughta show 'em these when we find 'em. They’ll probably get a kick out of it.”

They looked around the beach, which was unusually dead activity-wise.

“Where is everybody, anyway?” Eric asked.

Sam shrugged.

“I dunno. Probably by the lagoon or something. Jack and his choir might be out hunting--”

Both spotted something a few feet away from them and stopped dead in their tracks. It was a box. A decently sized wooden box, painted green with gold accents, just… sitting there. A crank jutted out of the side, pointed towards them expectantly.

The twins exchanged looks, mouths hanging slightly ajar. Once might have been a fluke. Twice a coincidence. But finding a random toy on the beach three times in a row? It was officially a pattern now. Something very strange was going on…

They walked up to the box and knelt down in front of it. Sam, being the one closest to the crank, started turning it. Eric couldn't help but hum along with the tinkling version of “Pop! Goes the Weasel” the familiar contraption played, perhaps in an attempt to ease both of their nerves. But when both boy and box reached the titular “Pop!”, their nerves were anything but. In fact, the scare they received was so potent that Sam fell backwards. Of course, it wasn't as if they didn't expect anything to pop out. They'd played with jack-in-the-boxes plenty of times before, and knew of their deceptiveness. No, the thing that really scared them was that the Jack that sprung forth from this jack-in-the-box was… a very particular Jack…

It had a head carved out of reddish-pink wood and horrid expression painted onto its face, eyebrows far too furrowed and smile far too wide and toothy. Its blue eyes were wild with mischief and eye-bleedingly bright in hue. This was, in fact, true with all the paint used; from the blindingly white teeth, to the freckles, to the light strokes that seemed to represent fresh warpaint. It was as if the thing had been intentionally designed to be harsh on the eyes. The head rocked back and forth on the giant spring, the red curls of hair bobbing to and fro, and though both knew this was simply a reaction to the release in tension, they couldn’t help but interpret an impishness in the action, as if it were teasing them for being so frightened.

Yes, this was definitely a caricature of Jack Merridew, in all his unsightly, malicious glory. There was no room for interpretation, like with the other two. The target of imitation was clear, even down to the toy chosen. A Jack-Merridew-in-the-box.

Now the question before that they earlier disregarded came back to the forefront. They didn’t even have to say it, they just looked at each other and knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Where on earth did this thing come from?

Sam quickly packed the awful thing away and stood, holding it with both hands. Eric, trying to be helpful, slung the rag doll on top of the jack-in-the-box to make it easier to carry. Sam didn't seem to like that arrangement, however, for immediately afterwards he maneuvered the objects so that the limp, sandy doll was instead tucked under his arm.

The pair set off again, this time on a mission. That being, of course, figuring out what the hell was happening with all these toys. They continued in the direction of the lagoon, as this appeared to be where the trail of objects was leading them. They walked for awhile without incident until finding yet another plaything on the ground.

Again, like the one before, it was quite obvious who this one was meant to depict, what with the anxious look on its face, the large plastic spectacles with little black beads for eyes underneath, and the general rotundness of it. It was a stuffed animal: a pig, to be precise. It had Piggy's short hair and decrepit school clothes, but also a pig’s ears, snout, and curly tail. The hands of a boy and hooves of a pig seemed to reach a happy medium, however, as it grasped in its little hoof-hands the only significantly hard portion of the plushie: a mini plastic conch shell, like the one they used at assembly. The shell had tiny holes dotting some of the surface and a pull string on one end. Eric, intrigued, pulled it.

“Sam? Eric? C-can you hear me? It's me, Piggy! The real Piggy, not just a toy. It's really me in here!”

The string wound back, and the speaker went silent.

“Eric…” Sam turned and whispered nervously to his twin, “How does it know we're the ones who picked it up?”

Eric tugged the string again.

“Because I’m right in front of you, dummy!” the voice yelled in response to Sam, upset about being interrupted, “Now listen, this is important. It's not just me. He started it with Ralph. He just walked up to him while we were talking and touched his arm. I was frozen stiff because I couldn't believe it happened right in front of me. Simon tried to get to the woods and he followed him up. I ran away before I could see it, but I know it happened. I saw Jack running towards him as I left. I guess he was gonna try fighting him, but I don't think it turned out well. Then my asthma got bad and I had to stop. That's when he got me. I don't know about anybody else, but there's probably more.”

The string wound back again.

“... wait…” said Eric, blinking in bafflement, “Do you mean to tell me that  _ this _ ,” he held the blonde fashion doll near the stuffed animal’s face, “is actually Ralph?”

He drew the string out again.

“Yes.”

“And the rag doll’s really Simon? And Jack’s a jack-in-the-box?”

“Probably, if that's who they look like. And any others you f--”

It paused for a half-second.

“Wait, did you just say Jack turned into a jack-in-the-box?”

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly, still trying to get used to the idea that this thing was somehow alive.

The voice in the speaker snorted with laughter.

“Oh my goodness, that's beautiful!” it chortled, then it went, “Gah, stop! You’re distracting me! I have to say what I need to while I can still control this--”

“What's it like being a toy?” Eric interrupted.

Piggy sighed, frustrated, but still wanting someone to gripe to, “It's... awful. I can still see and hear and everything, but I can't move at all, and I can't talk none without you pulling the string. It must be worse for the others, though, who have it the same but can't say nothin’ at all…”

“Wait, they’ve been seeing and hearing us and what we've been doing this whole time?” asked Sam.

“Probably. I don't see why I’d be the only one.”

Sam quickly brushed the sand off Simon's cloth face, and Eric twisted Ralph’s arms and legs back to their proper positions. They didn't exactly feel guilty about what they did to the dolls, but hoped the two weren't mad either way.

“Okay, okay,” said Piggy, “now that that's out of the way, listen to me. This is serious. You two need to stay away from--”

The string drew back, cutting him off.

Eric frantically pulled it out, “From who? Who!?”

The noise that erupted from the speaker was strangely deep, staticy, and slurred. If it was someone talking, you sure as hell couldn't tell what they were trying to say.

After the burst of indecipherable sound, the speaker went dead quiet for the rest of the time the string was out. After this, Eric yanked it out again.

It began with a few seconds of silence, then…

“I’ve got the conch! I’ve got a right to speak!” Piggy chimed.

There was a odd cadence to the non-sequitur, a certain peppiness which made it ring frightfully hollow.

Pull.

“Fire is the most important thing!”

Pull.

“Like a bunch of kids!”

Pull.

“I didn't vote for no ghosts!”

The twins looked at each other, horrified. Piggy's autonomy had been stripped from him right before their eyes. He was likely still aware, too, just unable to control his speech, which only made it even worse to think about. They could imagine Piggy trying to call out for them, only for it to come out an inane exclamation, with unsettling clarity.

Then, a newfound determination sparked in their hearts as they looked down at their transmogrified comrade, a determination to set things right.

Eric hugged the plushie to his chest as they marched on, still very much afraid of whatever they were going to face. Luckily, he found that, due to Piggy's plumpness, the toy version of him was wonderfully soft and cuddly. That gave him some comfort, even in as bizarre a situation as this, but it also made him feel bad, in a way. Piggy was stuck as a catchphrase-spewing, cruel parody of himself, all the while Eric was getting pleasure out of it, because of the stuffed pig’s snuggly properties. That made him think about how all the others must feel too, and he couldn't help but feel a bit disheartened.

He looked over to Sam, whose expression reflected a similar sentiment.

And soon, there they were. The lagoon. It seemed to be completely deserted… excluding one small figure, who sat by a tide pool in the rocks, his back to them. The twins creeped cautiously towards him. On closer inspection, they saw he was doing something they couldn't see with his hands, and heard him talking in strange voices. Sitting by him, dangerously close to the water, was a chain of paper dolls. They were made of simple, featureless white paper, so neither could tell exactly who they used to be, but judged they were most likely members of the choir, because of their small number and the fact they were grouped together.

The boy's head perked up, and he turned around to face them. The twins greeted.

“H-hey--”

“H-Henry…”

Henry glanced over their cargo, his eyes shimmering.

“Oh, you brought ‘em to me! Thank you!”

He put down a ghastly looking china doll with long, ratty black hair and let slip off a goofy, wall-eyed, smiley hand puppet, which he had been playing with moments before. He ran up to them and grabbed hold of the jack-in-the-box excitedly.

“I was gonna go back 'n get 'em myself, but I got busy and forgot…”

Sam let him take it, knowing well enough that he was the cause of all this and not wanting to insight any ill will in someone who could somehow turn flesh into plastic and stuffing.

“Hey, Henry, how’d you, umm...”

“...get all these toys?”

The answer was exactly what they expected.

“I made 'em myself!”

The twins looked at each other, then back to Henry.

“Oh, that's--”

“Impressive…”

They attempted to flatter.

“How’d you do it?”

Henry's eyes twitched about as he searched his young brain for a way to explain his fantastic ability.

“I… I dunno, exactly. One moment I couldn't, and the next, I could. The first one I made was a little wind-up crab, by accident… I wanted something to play with… and I just touched it… it's... it’s like magic, I think… some kinda magic...”

He stood there, silent, for a few seconds, then broke out of this reflective state when he looked down at the box in his hands again. Giddily, he ran back to the place he was sitting before and plopped down, placing it in front of him.

He turned the crank, his smile wide as the nursery rhyme played, and let out a big laugh when Jack's head popped out. He eagerly stuffed it back in, and repeated the process many times. It was clear to the boys watching that the fun part for Henry was the cranking and the resetting, not the springing itself. Of course it wasn't, because that was the only part he didn't directly control. He took particular vindictive pleasure in jamming Jack's head into the box, perhaps thinking back to all the orders he’d receive from the demanding choir leader before, both on island and off.

“H-Henry?” Eric asked.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know they can still hear and see you?”

Sam continued his brother’s train of thought, “That they're all still inside?”

“Well, yeah!” the little boy giggled, “That's half the fun! If they didn't know, I’d just be playing with boring ol’ regular toys!”

“O...okay…” Sam backed away a little, disturbed.

“B-but!” Eric floundered, “Ralph’s the chief! Jack’s lead hunter! They’re older than you! You can't keep them like that! You need them!”

Henry pouted angrily, his lower lip quivering.

“W-why should I care if they’re older?! If they’re smarter, or braver?!” he burst, “They never did anything for me! For any of us! All they did was either pick on us or leave us all on our own! That and yell at each other!”

He picked up the china doll off the ground and stared down at the dark, matted bangs, remembering how the cruel boy within chucked rocks at him and kicked sand in his eyes so many times before.

“They’re… they’re better like this… really... now they can’t do anything… bad...”

The twins, coming to the realization that Henry couldn’t be reasoned with, were now thoroughly terrified, and, in a simultaneous split-second decision, dropped their transformed acquaintances and bolted, in the name of self-preservation.

It was not the right decision.

“Hey! Where are you two going?!” the littlun bellowed, “Come back here!”

Thus, Henry gave chase.

* * *

 

Eric stared helplessly and guiltily at his brother’s face.

It was really all he could do now, considering it was really the only thing, excluding the walking beam set longways between them, that was really in his field of view. That and he couldn’t look away, or even close his eyes…

He couldn’t help feeling partly responsible, considering the circumstances. He’d tripped over himself for just a second, fell behind only a foot, but even that was too much. He sensed Henry’s little hand touch his back, and Eric’s first instinct as he felt the coldness rapidly spread across his body was grasp his brother’s arm for reassurance, bringing them both down.

Then again, like Sam said earlier, they really couldn’t do anything by themselves. What happened to one always happened to the other. So maybe it wasn’t completely his fault…

That face he stared into…

It was so…

Happy…

So simplified… the eyes only dots, the mouth a single curved line…

Cast in tin…

He wondered if he was mad at him underneath it all, or if he came to a similar conclusion he did.

He wouldn't be able to tell anymore...

A huge hand moved just out of his periphery, and Eric knew exactly what it was doing. It’d been doing it for quite a while now.

He felt the himself tense up, not in a familiar, organic way, but through the artificialness of gears and springs, as he heard the key in the base of the contraption wind, wind, wind up.

They were let go, and unconsciously pushed down and pulled up alternatingly on each side of the beam, propelling the model railroad handcar forward. This was a short exercise, Eric knew, because each time Henry wound them so tight that they sped off the rock he set them on in a matter of seconds, crashing into the sand.

It was so predictable, he couldn’t stand it.

Sam would get the brunt of it, being on the front end. It must’ve been terrible for him, because he couldn’t even see it coming.

He wished desperately that he could talk to him, that he could give his twin some consolation, for despite the fact that they were staring each other square in the face, they both felt so alone...

Henry pulled the wind-up toy out of the sand, twisted the key, set it down, and let it fly off; again, and again, again. It didn’t seem to get old. And if it did, well… there were always his other new toys to play with, and even more new toys to make...

**Author's Note:**

> lol the plotting in this is SUPER bad but really i just wanted to play around with this concept and descriptions of things
> 
> where do henry's magic powers come from????? idk satan probably


End file.
